


Lobo Malo's Authentic Mexican Cuisine

by boredsince1894, youngbek



Category: Torchwood
Genre: Competition, F/M, M/M, Owen's birthday present, Valentine's Day, birthday fic, janto, just five nutters having a good time at a Mexican restaurant really, questionable amounts of hot sauce
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-18
Updated: 2016-02-18
Packaged: 2018-05-21 10:02:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6047461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/boredsince1894/pseuds/boredsince1894, https://archiveofourown.org/users/youngbek/pseuds/youngbek
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Between Valentine's Day and his past, Owen had never liked any of his past birthdays. Now he had to deal with a competitive Team Torchwood, horrendous driving, the regretful decision that is burritos and hot sauce, and, worst of all, Jack and Ianto constantly being within arm's reach of each other. Though, maybe that wasn't so bad after all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lobo Malo's Authentic Mexican Cuisine

**Author's Note:**

> youngbek and boredsince1894's birthday present to Dr. Owen Harper. Hopefully he'll forgive us for it being belated.

         "For fuck's sake, it's my birthday, don't I get any say in what we do? Or if we do anything, for that matter. There’s a great pub just down the street. We could still turn around and--” Owen groaned as the SUV took a sharp, unnecessary turn down a sidestreet.

         “Oh, come on, Owen!” cried Gwen, shoving his shoulder, a big grin on her face. “Enough pouting. I promise, this is the best Mexican food in Cardiff.”

“Ow,” he said, grabbing his shoulder. “Yeah, yeah, alright, don’t need the whole birthday punches thing, thanks. Well, as long as Jack doesn’t eat any beans. This SUV is big, but not big enough.”

"You might as well enjoy it." Jack shot towards the back seat. "Your birthday, that is, not the beans. Though I'm not making any promises, just for that comment." He swerved out onto the main road, cutting off a powder blue sedan. He checked his rearview mirror as the elderly woman behind the wheel shot a very rude gesture his way. 

"I agree with granny," Owen muttered under his breath, turning back around and hoping he wouldn't vomit. "If it's my birthday, why am I in the backseat?”

"Ianto gets carsick," Jack replied.

"Carsick my arse. _I’m_ getting carsick," Owen shouted in his ear before throwing himself back in his seat. "Why do you need to drive like a madman if no one's in danger?”

"We have reservations," Jack said, and Owen swore he could hear the grin in his voice.

“Don’t worry, Owen,” Tosh smirked, checking her GPS. “Your stomach only has to suffer another seven minutes.”

"Only?!" He pulled himself forward in his chair to look at her and immediately regretted it. He pressed himself farther into his seat and opened the window, breathing in the harsh fumes of the Cardiff air. Which only made him feel decidedly more nauseous. All this, for a bloody birthday. He never knew anyone could make such a fuss. At least, not about _his_ birthdays….Still, he thought, clutching his stomach, he couldn’t help but feel a touch of gratitude. 

"Bet you I can make it five," Jack wagered. 

"Don't you dare, Harkness." He shouted through the wind piercing his eardrums. Only a touch of gratitude, though.

“And you just made it three minutes,” groaned Ianto, clutching his seat.

"It's a wonder this city hasn't overthrown us already," Tosh mused as Jack nearly caused a collision in the lane next to them. Before any of them had realized, they were coming to an abrupt stop underneath a flickering neon sign that read "Lobo Malo."

“See that?” Jack grinned, patting the dashboard. “Not a scratch on her.”

“Wish we could say the same for ourselves,” murmured Owen, blissfully taking in the stillness for a moment before they all hauled themselves out of their seats. They fell out onto the pavement below and sighed, taking stock of their bodies, making sure they hadn't lost a limb on the way.

“Remind me to get a taxi on the way back,” Owen grumbled. Jack, however, paid no attention, and didn't stop for a moment. He sauntered past all of them, through doors that had "Authentic Mexican Cuisine" painted garishly above them.

“Time to play _follow the swooshing coat_ ,” Gwen grinned, bounding after him.

“He does show off, doesn’t he?” Ianto commented, taking Tosh’s arm and following them inside. 

"Yeah, you love it, though," Tosh whispered back at him, earning herself a light nudge to the ribs. She giggled and let herself be led to the table that Jack had made himself comfortable at. Head of the table, as always.

“God help me,” Owen said to the sky, shaking his head before following the team. He would have sworn on his life that a smile wasn’t on his lips...but he decided it’d be best not to make Torchwood find a new doctor.

Taking in the interior of the restaurant, Ianto scoffed and tried to shield his eyes from the hideous hearts that covered every available surface. “Lovely,” he muttered, flicking a paper cupid that hung from the ceiling as he settled next to Jack. “It’s nice to know an ancient holiday devoted to love isn’t being cheapened or anything.”

Gwen took in the sights. It was a bit much, but, despite its lurid appearance, it reminded her of Rhys at home. She wouldn't be surprised if Brenda was already there, stationed just outside the door like a gargoyle, making sure Gwen didn't come home early and ruin her night with her son.

"Great choice, Gwen," Owen shot at her, peeling a fallen heart from his seat before flopping into it.

“Okay, don’t judge it on the decor. I promise, the tortillas are _heavenly._ ”

Just then, a pretty young woman came over, a rehearsed smile spread wide across her face. “Hello there,” she chirped. “Welcome to Lobo Malo! Shall we start with the drinks?” _Drinks._ Now that was something Owen could get behind, cheesy decorations or no cheesy decorations.

“Uh, yeah, I’ll have a Becks,” said Owen quickly. He knew the team was staring at him, eyebrows raised. So what if he wanted to start the night out with a beer? Course, it was typical of him to get something a bit more fruity, and they knew it. But, with the pink and red closing in on him, he had to keep his dignity somehow. He seemed to be the only one that was having this problem, as the rest of the team happily ordered their margaritas. All except Jack, who sipped at the water left on the table.

“Nothing fun for you, Owen?” smirked Ianto.

“Between you two,” he said, nodding across the table at Ianto and Jack, “and the charming atmosphere, there’s more than enough fruitiness to go around, thanks.”

“Oi!” Ianto glared as a laugh burst from Jack. Before Ianto could retaliate, the waitress had returned with their drinks. Letting out a sigh, Ianto peered down at his raspberry margarita and swirled his glass, wondering if he had made the right choice. After all, the bright red of it did clash horribly with the hearts hanging everywhere he looked.

When everyone had finally ordered (“Oh, come on, Tosh, just order the quesadilla! It has the same stuff on it as the burrito you’re looking at, _and_ guacamole.”), things started to mellow out. Everyone seemed...calm. Peaceful, even. As Owen took a swig of beer, he decided that a birthday sans Weevils and explosions wasn’t too bad after all. Even if the food the waitress was bringing over looked nothing like “Authentic Mexican Cuisine.” _Still_ , he thought as he ripped off a bite of his burrito, _it wasn’t half bad._ But, as everyone continued to chew their food in comfortable silence, he realized something: it just wasn’t _them._ It wasn’t Torchwood. The companionable silence turned almost eerie as they racked their brains for anything to talk about.

"The food's good and all, but this isn't exactly my idea of an exciting night out," said Owen.

"Care to make it a bit more interesting?" Jack replied, taking a bottle of hot sauce off of the rack, waving it under Owen's nose. He rubbed at it, trying to get the intimidating burn out. He eyed the hot sauce warily, checking to see if Jack was serious. _Of course he was,_ Owen thought as Jack's mischievous gaze didn't falter. That was more like Torchwood. A grin slowly spread across his face and he took the bottle from Jack's hand to add a heaping amount. He slid it back to Jack's side of the table.

Ianto looked between them and sighed, knowing this wouldn't turn out well. He made eye contact with Tosh, knowing she was thinking the same. Neither of them seemed to notice the smirk creep onto Gwen's face as Jack splashed an amount of hot sauce on his food that dwarfed what Owen had on his. 

They both shoveled a forkful into their mouths, fighting to keep them closed against the painful onslaught of heat. Tears sprang to Jack's eyes, but he chuckled through it, swallowing it all in one. Owen had less trouble, as he hadn't added nearly as much. He finished his bite and coughed, shaking his head. Tosh and Ianto just sat and ogled at the two men, grabbing at the crisps like they were popcorn. Jack raised his eyebrow.

"Round two?" He said, dripping more sauce onto his plate.

“Oh, you’re going down, Captain,” he shot back, dousing his burrito.

“Aaaaaand they’re off,” muttered Ianto, sipping his margarita as the two shoveled more food down their throats, trying desperately not to show they were choking on the heat.

“That all you got?” Owen gasped, his voice hoarse and his eyes dripping with tears.

“Ha,” Jack forced out as sweat dripped from his forehead. “Just getting started.”

“Boys,” Gwen interjected, interrupting their banter. “Can you pass the hot sauce before you use it all?” Bitterly, Jack parted ways with the bottle, passing it to where Gwen was sitting. Without looking away from either of the men, she turned it upside down, drenching what was left of her tortillas. They sat, stunned with their mouths gaping as she emptied it completely, then gestured for Ianto to grab the one at the adjacent table. He leaned over and grabbed it, glancing back to her plate every few tense seconds. As soon as he brought it within reach, she stole it from his hand, leaving it hanging in the air awkwardly.

“Gwen?” said Jack, swallowing painfully. “Somehow I don’t think this is a good idea.”

Without responding, Gwen cut off a piece of her food and scooped it onto her fork. It dripped bright red back onto the plate, leaving it looking more like a crime scene than a meal. She opened her mouth, and everyone stopped breathing to see if she would actually go through with it. She daintily placed it into her mouth and chewed. Tears sprung to her eyes, and sweat peppered her brow, but she still powered through it, finishing the bite and grinning.

“What was that, Harkness?” She asked mock innocently. She threw her hands into the air, leaning over the table to stare Jack in the eyes. “Boom!” She shouted at him.

Eyes sparkling, Ianto beat his fist on the table rhythmically as he chanted, “Gwen, Gwen, Gwen!” Tosh joined in as the champion did her best to bow in her seat. Jack let out a huff of defeat and grabbed his glass, downing the water in one go. Desperately, he reached out for Ianto’s margarita.

“Uh-uh,” Ianto quipped as he swatted Jack’s hand away. “Your driving is shit enough without drinking. And besides, you brought that contest onto yourself. Don’t be a sore loser.” He took the glass out of reach and took an agonizingly slow sip from it, making sure to keep Jack’s pathetic look of thirst in his line of vision. It was so ridiculous, he nearly spat out his drink. Ianto chuckled in the back of his throat and leaned in to give him a light kiss. 

“I suppose I can forgive you, even though you’re a terrible Valentine,” muttered Jack, crossing his arms.

“Mmm, says the man who didn’t get me a gift.”

Jack blanched for a moment before leaning in, a leer on his face. “I told you, patience is a virtue.”

“Alright, you two,” Owen said, shuddering, “that’s enough for the dinner table! Someone distract them before my burrito makes another appearance. Anything. Another contest. Ianto and Tosh didn’t even participate in the last one, so looks like last place for those two.” 

Tosh scoffed into her drink. "Oh, sorry, I didn't know dissolving our stomachs counted as prize-worthy." She distinctly ignored Gwen's defensive whine. “Why don’t we make something out of everything on the table? How about...best tower pays for only half of their meal? Everyone else compensates. Points are given for height, creativity, and structural integrity.”

“No way! I’ll lose in a heartbeat!” Owen interjected. “Not very nice of you to make me pay for you lot on my birthday.”

“Well make sure not to lose _this time_ ,” said Gwen, waving the empty bottle of hot sauce at him.

“How about you two sit out for this one?” suggested Tosh hastily. “Act as judges?”

“That mean I get to smash stuff?” Owen asked, hopefully.

“Yes,” Tosh smiled. “A tower’s strength is tested by being crumpled under Owen’s merciless fist.”

“Hold on,” Ianto said, just joining in the conversation. “Did I miss something?”

“Not at all,” Owen quickly said. “You heard everything. Height and creativity.”

“Right, well that could relate to a few things,” he quipped, raising an eyebrow in his direction. 

“The tower, the bloody tower!” Owen groaned. Ianto furrowed his eyebrows in mock confusion.

“Yeah, still not clearing things up for me.” By now a huge mischievous smile was adorned across Ianto’s face. Owen glared at Jack.

“Look what you did to him. God, I miss the quiet, unassuming, innocent tea boy--”

“Oh, trust me,” grinned Jack proudly. “He was _never_ innocent.”

“Well he used to be quiet about it, anyway,” grumbled Owen.

“Oh, he’s never been quiet, either.”Jack said and Ianto tried and failed to hold his laughter back.

“Can we focus?” Tosh interjected, trying to hide the blush that fell high on her cheeks.

“Hear, hear,” Gwen said, lifting her glass to clink it against Tosh’s. She subsequently took Ianto’s out of his reach.

“Hey!” He reached out for it. She giggled and placed it in his outstretched hand. “Only trying to do what’s in your best interest, sweetheart.” He grumbled as he took a large sip and brought the glass to the table loudly. Tosh smiled and continued.

“The rules are: no sabotaging other towers, and no leaving your side of the table to get materials. Are we all set?”   
“Ready, set, go!” Owen shouted almost before Tosh had finished speaking. There was a scramble of movement as they all grabbed at what they thought they would need.

“How the hell am I supposed to use the wrapper of a straw?” Jack yelled, balling the offending piece of paper up and tossing it across the table. Ianto grabbed at it and opened it back up again, setting it aside. “Well if it’s going to help you win, I’m taking it back,” Jack said, reaching over to steal it away from the concentrated Ianto. Without looking away, he swatted at his hand.

“I’m winning whether I have it or not,” Ianto breathed out, still staring intently at the beginnings of his tower.

“What if I distract you?” Jack whispered in his ear. Swiftly, Ianto took his fork and pricked at Jack’s invading hand from under the table, his other arm still doing his work. He left the fork to clatter back onto the table, Owen and Gwen watching in awe as Jack pouted and went back to work.

“Extra points to Ianto for dedication,” Gwen said under her breath to Owen.

“And focus,” he added, still wide-eyed. He didn’t think Ianto had that level of resistance in him. The more you know….

Meanwhile, Tosh hadn’t noticed any of what was happening on the other end of the table. She was too busy wedging straws and knives together, building a network of beams that looked durable enough to withstand almost anything. A light smile graced her features, and she shoved another fork into the structure harshly. 

“We never set a time for them to finish,” Gwen pointed out.

“Give ‘em another five minutes,” her fellow judge murmured, slightly mesmerized by the chaos in front of him. It was amazing that no one had managed to spill their drinks yet. Just as he thought it, Tosh drained her glass and fixed it onto the top, held aloft by a crown of forks facing upwards. She sat back with a self-satisfied smile.  
Gazing at the empty, upturned glass, Owen realized he was sick of the gross aftertaste of beer. Sighing, he finally gave in. If you can’t beat ‘em….Eyeing a nearby waitress, he waved her over. “Yeah, could you get us a lime margarita? Thanks, love. And…” he looked back at the table as Jack and Ianto both lunged for the same knife. “We’ll pay for anything broken. Promise.” She nodded mechanically as she slowly backed away towards the bar, fear in her eyes.

“I’m ready when you are,” Tosh announced, and the men rushed to finish theirs quickly. “Judges?” She looked to Owen expectedly. He grinned.

“Wait!” cried Gwen, pulling out her mobile and snapping pictures of everyone’s tower. “Alright,” she breathed out, relieved. “You may proceed. Who’s first?”

Tosh sat up a little higher in her seat, but said nothing. An affectionately amused smile drifted across both Owen and Gwen’s faces as they examined her work.

“You sure you never went to school for architecture, Tosh? ” Owen said, leaning in close, squinting at the way the straws, forks, and knives interlocked. He smiled at how nicely the margarita glass looked as a topper.

“Why, Owen,” said Gwen, faking a gasp, “I can’t believe it; that’s practically a compliment! And well-deserved,” she added, flashing a toothy smile. “It’s beautiful, Tosh.”

“Thank you, Gwen. And Owen, I _did_ study engineering.”

“Yeah, well. With architecture you’ve got to sometimes get the aesthetics part, too, right? So...not quite the same. Whatever you want to call it--it’s great, Tosh.”

“Oh, come on,” whined Jack. “We all know Tosh is wonderful. Wouldn’t have recruited her if she was anything less. But come on. Mine’s not so bad, right?”

Next to the elegantly crafted tower sat Jack's masterpiece. It was short and wobbled slightly when Owen moved forward to examine it more closely. At the very top sat Jack's dinnerplate, the bright red hot sauce still painted across the surface over the lump that was previously his dinner. It was mushed into a mound at the center, a spoon sticking out the top. Tied to it was a scrap of napkin, a "J" drawn across it with sauce. Gwen's nose crinkled up and Owen didn't bother to hold back an incredulous laugh.

“Sorry, boss, but yours looks like utter shit.”

“Hey! I’m at the end of the table, I can’t reach anything!”

“Looked like you could reach Ianto easily enough earlier,” Gwen shot back.

Ianto coughed, eyes wide. “Did you really think we didn’t notice?” Gwen chirped, patting Ianto on the shoulder. “We’re very observant, aren’t we, Owen?”

“Huh?” He asked, too busy examining Jack’s structure closer.

“He’s still in training, bless him,” she said, wincing.

“Oi, what’s that mean?” 

“Poor dear, he’s a bit slow.”

Ianto began to wave his hand at the two before they started a brawl right there and then. “Excuse me? Are you done yet? You haven’t finished judging.”

Owen sent a withering look his way, then stared mock intensely at his tower.

“It’s _pretty_ ,” he sneered. Gwen nodded her agreement next to him. It was pretty. 

It was taller than the other two combined, towering over them in different shades of silver and white. He had made sure to coordinate the colors, leaving the metallic utensils near the bottom to reflect the things around it. Gwen looked at her distorted features in the base, almost mesmerised as it twinkled back at her.

“It’s lovely, Ianto,” Gwen beamed. His eyes brightened at the kind words.

“Round two of judging starts now!” shouted Owen, a sadistic grin beginning. “Structural integrity!” Leaning over the table, he hollered “Owen smash!” and brought his fist down on top of Ianto’s beautiful, dainty tower. Ianto jerked back as horror and shock flooded his face. It was soon followed by genuine sadness.

“What was that for?”

“Yeah, when I said you’d heard everything, I may or may not have been lying. Just goes to show you that flirting at the table should be strictly monitored. You never know what critical details you’ll miss.”

Ianto turned to Jack. “Can I be the one to deliver those birthday punches?” 

“I thought we’d agreed there would be no punching!” Owen called out from where he was hidden behind Gwen.

“In your dreams, Harper,” Ianto grinned as he stood and darted around the table.

“Oi, call him off! Call him off!” Owen laughed, managing to crumple Jack’s work of art as he dashed by. None of them seemed to notice their server walk halfway to their table, then turn on her heel and retreat. Gasping for air as she laughed, Gwen looked up to see the manager of Lobo Malo storming towards them. She hastily grabbed Owen as he ran past, causing Ianto to run straight into him. Ianto stumbled backwards, looking around to see what had caused the disturbance. He locked eyes with the furious manager and backed up a few paces.

“What the _hell_ do you think you’re doing? This is a proper business that doesn’t need you running around like bloody children!” Spit sprayed Owen’s face as the man shouted, his accent so thick they almost didn’t understand it. Owen was about to shout back, and certainly start a fight, when Jack pulled him away and took his place in front of the furious Welshman.

“Ianto, you speak Welsh. What’s he saying?” Jack smiled at the manager, but his eyes glared as he stepped forward. Ianto’s mouth dropped open, clearly not wanting to engage.

“I’m obviously speaking fucking English, you daft bastard. Now get out or I’ll call the cops on ya,” He sputtered back, going bright red with rage. 

Jack didn’t flinch, just looked like he was speaking to the Weevil remnant on the bottom of his shoe. “Now, now, don’t use language like that. Remember, we’re children.”

The man took a few seconds to compose himself, the bruised purple of his angered face fading to a light pink. He forced out between clenched jaws, “Get out.”

Jack shrugged and motioned for the team to get out of their chairs to leave the building. They bitterly did as they were told, though every one of them had more than a few words to say as a parting gift. Each of them passed through the door, one by one after Jack. But not before Owen had quickly snatched a bottle of hot sauce off of the closest table and saluted the place with a rude gesture.

“You know,” Ianto commented, trying to lighten the mood as they were just out of the doors, “I don’t think that food was authentic.” He sipped at the nearly full bottle of beer he had concealed in his jacket sleeve just before leaving. Jack raised an eyebrow at the bottle before breaking out in a grin.

“It wasn’t,” added Gwen, pulling a face of disappointment. “Rhys and me went to Mexico two summers ago. Nothing like that.”

“See? It was built upon lies to begin with.” Ianto commented snarkily.

“But hang on,” said Owen, eyes narrowing, “then why the hell did we go there in the first place?”

“Well the tortillas are still good, and they usually don’t care if you make a fuss. Must be the night manager.” 

“Next year, you can pick where we go for your birthday,” said Tosh soothingly, patting him on the shoulder in a patronizing sort of way.

“Wait--Wait a minute!” Jack yelled. The team stopped in their tracks, looking up at him, awaiting more orders. But none came. Their boss simply turned on his heel and marched back into the restaurant. From the outside, they began to hear some shouting that sounded far too much like Jack’s for their liking. All eyes moved to Ianto. His shoulders rose in defense.

“Why are you all looking at me?” he moaned.

“You’re his bloody handler, Ianto,” said Owen exasperatedly, putting a hand out as if to say ‘after you.’ “We’ve got no one else to turn to.”

Ianto was just about to shoot back a sharp remark when the shouting stopped. They all stared at the door, afraid to make a move. No one knew what could be going on behind it, and no one made any steps to find out. They just waited, until--

“Sorry about that,” beamed Jack as he pushed the door open with his foot. His hands were preoccupied by a small box. “I ordered _this_ ,” he said, raising the box slightly to indicate it, “when I made the reservations. Happy Birthday, Dr. Harper,” he said, handing the box to Owen. Lifting the lid, he discovered a chocolate frosted cake, with “Happy B-Day” written in tiny pink lettering. “Sorry about the pink, it was the best they could do, it being Valentine’s Day and all.” He waited a moment, but Owen didn’t say anything. He just _stared._

“Look, if you’re really that offended by the pink, or if you’re allergic to chocolate or something, you really should have said so a few years ago--”

“No,” said Owen blankly. “Thanks, Jack.” And he covered the box back up and headed for the backseat of the SUV. 

He settled into his seat, laying the box carefully on his lap, clutching both edges so it wouldn’t move even an inch to either side. He ran his finger over the tag that was glued to the corner. It was clearly given to the restaurant beforehand, as it had each of his team’s names hastily scrawled on the small space it provided. He was sure Gwen and Tosh must have been staring at him, wondering why he hadn’t even reacted as Jack swerved onto the road, heading towards Tosh’s flat to drop her off first. He stared out the window to ensure he wouldn’t catch their eyes. When the SUV screeched to a halt, Tosh abruptly leaned around her seat and gave Owen a quick hug.

“Happy Birthday, Owen,” she whispered, giving him a quick peck on the cheek before retreating, a blush rising on her face. 

“Yeah, thanks Tosh….Goodnight.” He called after her. Watching her awkward jog to her door, he brought his hand to rub his cheek, revelling in the nerves he suddenly found in his chest. Before he had time to think any more, Jack put the SUV into drive and hurtled back onto the road towards Gwen’s. “Hang on,” said Owen suddenly, “Isn’t Ianto’s flat closer?” Jack looked through the mirror at him, cocking his head innocently to contrast the leer on his face.

“Well, if you want Gwen to drive, that’s fine by me. Otherwise, Ianto’s flat is this ride’s final destination.” Ianto didn’t turn around, but Owen could see a hint of the blush that was growing across his cheekbones as they drove under a streetlight. 

He groaned. Just a few minutes ago he hadn’t wanted to leave. Now all he was looking forward to was arriving at his flat and grabbing the first fork he could find. The gaudy pink icing was calling out to him, and they had gone through all that trouble, he couldn’t leave it to go to waste by just looking at it. And, gaudy pink or not, it would probably give him less of a cavity than the one the two men in the front had been causing all night. To be in love on Valentine’s Day….Well, he supposed he couldn’t blame them, and he figured he could at least do them the favor of getting out of their hair.

Owen glanced over Gwen’s shoulder to see why she was so quiet. _Ah,_ he thought. _Texting Rhys._ When they reached her flat, Gwen crawled into the back and squeezed him. “Oooh, Owen. Happy Birthday, old man. I’m so glad we got to get out of the Hub for it. We need to more often. You know, Rift-permitting. Seriously. No more going straight home all the time after work.”

“Yeah, sure. Thanks, Gwen,” he smiled, patting her until she let go.

“Night, all!” Gwen shouted as she exited the SUV, checking her driveway for any sign of Brenda’s hideous old cruiser. All tension fell from her shoulders as she realized it wasn’t there, and she moved even faster towards her front door. 

Owen sighed and sunk deeper into his seat. Now it was just him and the love-birds. He attempted to keep his eyes far away as Jack continued on the road to Owen’s flat, but he couldn’t help but notice every shift between them. It was all a little too voyeuristic for his tastes, but he knew nothing was going on. They were both staring ahead, tiny smiles on their faces that seemed a bit...well, shy, almost. Definitely not being handsy, which was suddenly not the only thing he expected from them. He now almost wished they were being handsy, if it meant that they’d stop having that adoring look in their eyes.When he saw Jack’s hand reach into the seat next to him, he wasn’t even sure if it was his mind playing tricks on him again or if it was actually happening. 

But, sure enough, they were just holding hands. That’s it. Jack’s thumb was drawing circles on Ianto’s palm as they continued on through the night.

“Yeah, maybe Gwen should’ve driven after all,” he piped up, a small smile creeping onto his face. The sudden crack in the silence caused the two to break out of their reverie and yank their designated hands back into their own laps. Owen didn’t think he had ever seen Jack Harkness blush before, but he was, even if he had to squint to see it.

They finally came to a stop outside Owen’s complex, and both men turned around to face him.

“Happy Birthday, Owen.” Jack said, a genuine smile gracing his features. Ianto nodded next to him, awkwardly looking for something to say.

“Goodnight.” He decided upon, nodding amiably. His smile was uncomfortable, but he at least looked like he meant it. His face suddenly became very stern. “You ever break my shit again, I’ll do worse than chase you around a table.”

“Yeah, whatever, tea boy,” Owen shot back with a roll of his eyes. Still, he couldn’t hide the genuine laugh that escaped. “Night, you two.” He turned to Jack. “Try to stay in your seat until you get to tea boy’s flat. I really like our ride, and I don’t need you crashing it because you can’t keep your hands off each other.” Jack saluted, a goofy grin on his face. Ianto merely turned pink.

Owen slid from the SUV and strutted across to the door, not glancing back as he unlocked it and passed through to the inside, heading for the elevator.

A few minutes later, he stumbled through the door of his flat, suddenly realizing just how tired he really was. He dragged his heels as he made his way to the kitchen, checking out the large window as he did. The SUV was still there. Owen couldn't see anything from that angle, but he was sure he wouldn't want to if he could have. He closed the curtains and chuckled to himself, hoping that Jack and Ianto would have a good night, before searching his drawers for a clean fork. Of course, he couldn't find any, so he settled for the nearest dirty one he could rub on his shirt.

He flopped onto his couch, digging into his cake before he had even landed. Only a few minutes later a quarter of the cake was gone, and Owen was starting to doze into the crumbs that littered his shirt. He jerked awake, realizing he was still seated on his couch. He heaved himself to his feet and gingerly placed the cake in the fridge. He stared at it for a moment in awe before realizing he needed to find a bed quickly or he would pass out on the floor. He padded into his bedroom and fell onto the sheets, arms crossed behind his head.

“Well,” he muttered to himself, his eyelids starting to get heavier. “Birthdays. Not so bad. Who knew?” He sighed contently and closed his eyes. He barely thought another word before he was sound asleep, a light smile still on his face.


End file.
